


Another World: Underneath the Too Sunny Sky

by MakaS0ul



Series: Underneath the Too-Sunny Sky [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Drama, F/F, Jacques is a massive douche but what else is new, Minor Character Death, Romance, Spiritual, this one is a doozy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaS0ul/pseuds/MakaS0ul
Summary: The Village underneath the too-sunny sky has one final tale. Another tale from another world.Can be read without reading any of the previous parts of the series





	Another World: Underneath the Too Sunny Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello. I haven’t been able to write as much due to both health and personal reasons, so this has been a long time coming. Welcome to the end of the Too Sunny Sky saga. This chapter is something like another world, a what-if scenario if you will. This was my original concept for the Haresugita Sora no Shita de songfic, but it follows the lyrics far less closely, so it was shelved. Hopefully it will be worth the wait. Enjoy~!

            The Sun beats down relentlessly, just as it has for many days, many weeks, many months. My people and I wither, the children suffering the worst, their fragile young bodies unused to the harshness. They have little strength, not even the enthusiasm of youth can will them from their homes to play, though I can see it in their eyes as they peer outside that they desperately wish otherwise.

            The adults crowd into the tavern, gulping down their ale as if it would satiate their near-permanent thirst. Their hollow laughter cuts through the heated nights like lightning through the sky, but there is no mirth, only despair.

            They have come to me several times, accusing me of failing in my duties, pointing dried fingers at me as they push their unreasonable accusations and demands onto me. I cannot lash out as I wish to, so I simply apologize and redouble my --what is likely to be-- fruitless efforts. I can feel it inside my soul that there is more than a simple weather problem causing this suffering, but I cannot fathom why the Sun Goddess would punish us so.

            In the past, She has always blessed us with Sun to help our crops grow, stepping aside when the time was right to let the rain water them in turn. She accepted our simple offerings of fruits and vegetables, never demanding a human sacrifice like many of Her kin. We had been blessed with a kind Goddess, and yet She punished us for reasons I still do not understand.

            When I relay such thoughts at the meeting of the Elders, their wrinkled brows furrow, and they take long drinks of ale. I watch their eyes cloud with each sip, and I cannot help but feel their judgement is becoming just as so the longer this relentless Sun lasts.

            “You truly do not know why the Sun Goddess is punishing us?” one Elder asks, taking a sip from his mug.

            I shake my head. “When I try to speak with Her in prayer, I feel only heat, waves of anger. They push me out.”

            They hum in thought, draining their mug further, and I am only just able to stop myself from wrinkling my nose in disgust. “How do the children fare?”

            I shake my head once more. “They are withering away, far quicker than the adults. Their bodies cannot handle ale as an adult can. Is there no water left for them?”

            Another Elder shifts, setting his mug upon a wooden slat. “There is not. We must save what little we have left.”

            “For what purpose? The children are dying, the future of this village is dying! What is in greater need of saving than that?” I can feel my blood begin to boil, though I force it down; yelling will do neither the children nor I any good.

            The same Elder clears his throat. “The village will cease to exist if the governing bodies wither away in the heat. We will not survive without discipline.”

            My blood returns to boiling in an instant, my jaw going slack. “Do you mean to imply that the water is being saved for all of you? For the Elders and the adults?”

            “Children are born often, Weiss, and they die just as often. There is no guarantee that they would live even if the drought ended immediately.” My own Father says, his tone disgustingly prideful for the subject.

            “So your solution is to sacrifice them so the rest of you may live?” I can feel bile rising into my throat. I feel sick. I feel as if I am living a nightmare.

            I pray to whomever is listening that I may wake from it soon.

            Another Elder strokes his beard. “’Sacrifice,’ you say? An excellent idea. Perhaps the Sun Goddess has grown tired of our meager offerings and wishes for something more… potent.”

            “Surely you jest! Why would She suddenly demand human sacrifice?”

            “Gods and Goddesses are fickle beings, Weiss. It is simply the way of things,” my Father says calmly, sipping at his mug. How I dearly wish to club him with it. “Now, regarding the matter of the sacrifices, perhaps we should offer up one of the more sickly children? It would be a gift for their life to end at the hands of divinity rather than the Sun, wouldn’t you all agree?”

            I clap a hand to my mouth to force the bile back down. I feel the urge to retch, but I must ignore that. I must stop this madness.

            “Has the ale gone to your heads? Have you gone mad with heat? We cannot offer a sacrifice, let alone a sacrifice of a mere _child_.”

            One of the men, Elder Hebi, waves my words away, as if they were an annoying insect buzzing about his head. “Sending a sickly child may be seen as offensive by the Sun Goddess, so I suggest we offer a healthier child, or even one of the young adults.”

            He turns to look at me with a grin that practically drips venom. He reminds me of a snake. “In fact, who better to sacrifice than a priestess? You have devoted your life to the Sun Goddess, have you not? Would it not be the peak of devotion to offer your life to Her as well?”

            “We would lose our ability to send prayers to Her if we sacrificed my daughter. A healthy child is our best choice,” my Father says, and once again I wish to club him with his mug.

            “Perhaps you are right. Then let us put it to a vote,” the eldest man in the room wheezes out. He is certainly the closest to death of everyone in the village, yet he sips at a mug of water and a wave of resentment washes over me.

            My mind races. While I have no desire to sacrifice myself, I have even less desire to watch a mere _child_ be sacrificed. If I offer myself, that may satiate them for the time being, but who is to say that they would not offer up another soon after I die? Still, that is merely an uncertainty. What _is_ certain is that if I do not offer myself for sacrifice, a child will _certainly_ die. The choice is obvious.

            “Those in favor of—“

            “I will be the sacrifice!”

            I declare myself boldly and without waver in my voice, though my knees feel weak and my heart hammers against my chest. My blood is rushing through my ears, but I stand firm.

            The Elders regard me with looks ranging from surprised, to amused, to downright _pleased_ and I want nothing more than to retch. The sick feeling has not abated in the least since I stepped into this accursed tent.

            “Truly?” one asks, raising a single brow. “You do understand that you will not return if you are sacrificed, do you not?”

            “I’m not a fool. I know what ‘sacrifice’ means,” _You decrepit old lizard,_ I finish in my thoughts. “I am offering myself to be the sacrifice to the Sun Goddess.”

            “Such a change of heart! What begat it so suddenly?” my Father asks, his lips curling.

            “It is just as Elder Hebi said; I have devoted my life to the Sun Goddess as a priestess, and to become a sacrifice to Her would be the ultimate display of devotion.” I will say whatever I need to prevent an innocent child from taking my place, including their own despicable words.

            Elder Hebi smiles in a way that makes my skin crawl, but the eldest one shakes his head. “We cannot sacrifice our priestess. Who would conduct the ceremony in your stead? No, we will offer a child as suggested.”

            I feel air leave my lungs, as if I had taken a blow to the gut, and my hands shake. “Surely one of you could conduct the ceremony?” It is desperate, and I know it to be so, but there is nothing else I can say, nothing else I can do to convince them.

            “We were not blessed by the Goddess, Weiss. It would surely only anger Her more if we conducted the ceremony in your stead,” my Father says.

            I can feel my chances slipping away. “But—“

            “The matter is closed, Weiss. We will offer a child, and _you_ will be the one to conduct the ceremony,” Elder Hebi says. “Once the seamstress completes the finest robes we can make for the sacrifice, we will hold the ceremony. You are dismissed.”

            With a wave of his hand I am practically tossed out, and I stumble home, feeling dizzy and rife with guilt. I am forced to pause to retch behind a building, tears clinging to my eyes. There is little more than bile within me, but it is forced out all the same.

            How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

            I know that unless I can determine that which the Sun Goddess truly wants, the child whose life will be unjustly cut short will not be the last victim of the village’s madness. My prayers have gone unanswered, and I am sure that will go unchanged in the coming days.

            I collapse into my bed the instant I am in my home.

            The children deserve better than this fiery hell. They deserve better than the useless Elders who have become drunk in their power. They deserve better than their parents who have given up on them for a few more drops of ale; a few more drops of water.

            I sigh heavily, and I feel the tears return and slip down my cheeks and nose. I feel helpless, guilty, angry, yet all I can do is cry into my bed.

            Silently, I send a prayer to the Sun Goddess.

            _Please, I beg of Thee, please save the children of this village._

 

* * *

 

 

            Days have passed and I can discern nothing more than a renewed fiery anger from the Sun Goddess. Each prayer I send to Her is returned with a wave of heat that seems to wither our very souls, and I can only imagine what it would be like to stand in Her presence as She rages.

            The adults in the village protested nothing when it was announced that a child would be the sacrifice. The family who was chosen had a healthy young daughter who cried as her name slipped from the lips of the Elders, while her parents looked nearly _relieved._

            My nails dug crescents into my palms until they bled.

            Soon, the day of the ceremony was upon us, and little Blau cried as they dressed her in the finest robes since my own. I pull her into an embrace so tight it may have hurt, but she clings fiercely to my robes and begs to know why she was chosen.

            I told her that I had tried to take her place, but the Elders would not allow it, which was indeed true, but I could not find it within myself to tell her that it was their avarice that kept her where she is now.

            I had thought about running away with Blau, but there is nothing but desert surrounding us now and another would simply take her place if I were to do so. It pained me to do this, but perhaps if I had been more determined or courageous I would have been able to think of something.

I can blame my own failings for Blau’s life to be forfeit.

            The Elders call for Blau to stand at the entrance of the village, then tell me to begin. They had told her of the path to the Shrine, a long one for a child of her age, and told her that if she left it and fled, she would be struck down by the Goddess in a fit of rage. I saw hope that had lingered in her eyes die then.

            Quietly, I sing the prayer of sacrifice, an ugly, angry song that felt bitter on my tongue. I am hollow and dried out, my soul most certainly gone from me.

            I feel empty.

            Blau gives one final look at the village, round tears slipping down her childishly plump cheeks, then she leaves, a trail of tiny footprints all that remains of her.

            I finish my song and the adults and Elders of the village _cheer_. They are practically rapturous that they will live while a young child dies for them.

            I have felt anger before, and I have felt hatred, but in this moment, I feel complete and utter _disgust._ A vicious feeling that rises from my belly threatens to claw its way out of my throat.

            _Retribution_.

            I want them to see justice for what they have done.

            _And surely they will._

* * *

 

 

            Months have passed and more children have been sacrificed, the Sun’s scorching rays never abating in the least. They have only grown stronger in recent days, and the village has run out of healthy children to offer. I am the last healthy youth to remain, and I am hoping that I will be able to offer myself this time.

            I must atone for my lack of strength in a moment when it was needed most.

            I must plead with the Sun Goddess to end this suffering.

            The Elders sit in their hut just as always, sipping at their water and ale. They regard me wearily.

            “As I said months ago, I do not believe a sacrifice is what the Sun Goddess desires,” I say, looking at each elder in turn.

            “Then what is it she desires, Weiss?” my Father asks, his moustache twitching.

            I falter. “I…”

            “So you still do not know?” Elder Hebi asks, his lips curling. “Can you truly speak with the Goddess, or have you simply been keeping up a facade? Surely a true Priestess would know what her Gods and Goddesses want?”

            I hate this decrepit old man. “I said this before as well, but She is still furious, and continues to grow more so by the day. Her anger pushes me out and I cannot visit Her Shrine while it floats above the Earth. I cannot speak with a Goddess who has no desire to do as such.”

            The eldest one coughs into his hand, bringing eyes back to him. “I have no doubt of your abilities, young Priestess, and this discussion does nothing for the matter at hand. What we _are_ discussing is the fact that the only healthy youth remaining is our Priestess herself, though she has reached her second decade and is marriageable. Would it be in our best interest to betroth her to young man in a village that has water?”

            “Even if we were to wed her, we cannot all move to another village, nor can we transport the water reliably,” another Elder says. “I believe that we must continue to sacrifice. Perhaps She wishes for an adult?”

            “Surely not,” Elder Hebi says. “Perhaps we should follow my suggestion from our last meeting? Would it not be fitting for our Priestess to be sacrificed? Surely her proximity to divinity would gain some favor.”

            The Elders look to each other, and I hold my breath as their eyes converse.

            The eldest nods then. “Very well. All those in favor of offering our Priestess as the next sacrifice, say ‘aye.’”

            There is a resounding chorus of “aye” and my fate is sealed, just as I had hoped.

            “We will perform the ceremony at the Sun’s peak tomorrow. Make sure you are prepared with your finest robes,” the eldest says, and I can see Elder Hebi smiling in that serpentine way of his.

            I leave the tent with a bow, and though I am sure I should feel conflicted or sorrowful, I can only feel relief. My plan worked, and all that is left is to plead with the Sun Goddess. I can only hope that She will give me an answer.

            I return home without fanfare, and before I lay down to sleep, I place a kiss on my hairpin that my sister gave me, the only thing I have left of her since she departed. It is a goodbye and an apology.

            An apology for failing as a Priestess,

            An apology for letting children take my place.

            An apology for leaving her without truly saying goodbye.

            It is with these regretful thoughts that I slip into slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

            The entire village has come out to see me off, just as they had for the children, but there is a different look in their eyes now; there is trepidation.

            What will become of them if they sacrifice their Priestess?

            There is not an ounce of empathy or sympathy in them, but rather a selfishness, a desire of self-preservation. The children did nothing for them so they felt nothing when they left, but their Priestess? They were losing their link to the Gods and Goddesses, and they feared damnation would follow.

            _Good riddance._

Frankly, the adults and Elders deserve damnation as far as I am concerned. They lost their right to live peacefully when they were willing to offer a child in their place. Whatever becomes of them after this is none of my concern. It is only fair, right?

            Granted, I worry for the remaining, sickly children. They deserve better than to live out the rest of their lives with these ugly, selfish people.

            I take my place at the village entrance.

            “Do not forget to sing the song of sacrifice as you walk,” Elder Hebi says, adjusting my robes.

            How disgustingly ironic. A Priestess meant to sing her own requiem? How laughably, disgustingly ironic. In fact, I would be laughing were I not so aware of my coming audience with the Sun Goddess.

            “I know,” I say, shaking off his hands.

            He looks as if he wants to say something more, but for once he keeps his mouth shut. He does not look any less self-approving though.

            I have said it once and I will say it again: I _hate_ this man.

            I consider giving him a final piece of my mind, I consider lashing out and saying everything I had never said before, but I stop myself. Such things will only sound like the bitterness of a soon-to-be victim. Frankly, he would take _far_ too much pleasure from hearing such a desperate thing, and the last thing I wish to do is give him any more pleasure from this than I already am. Perhaps such a thought is petulant –and quite pathetic for a person about to be killed—but if I am going to lose my life, I will do so on as many of my own terms as possible.

            No, instead I shall leave him with something far more potent.

            I tilt my head back slightly, glancing at him sidelong. “This will not end with just me, _Elder._ You know that to be so, yes?”

            He squints at me. “What are you blathering about?”

            I shrug, the action looking fairly nonchalant if I do say so myself. “I am simply espousing the truth. My death will not be the last one in this village.”

            “Wha—“ For the first time I have seen of him, he appears flustered, his feathers ruffled and my words slipping right under. “O-of course! There are plenty of children that can follow in your place!”

            “And then?”

            “ _What_ did you say?”

            “’And then?’”

            “What does that mean? What are you asking me?”

            I can feel a smirk pulling at my lips. “I am asking you what will happen once all the children are gone. What will you do once all the convenient sacrifices have been offered?”

            “What will you do when you try to sacrifice someone who will _fight back_?”

            His face turns red. “You--! You will cease this at once! I will not have you playing games with my mind with your delusional rambling!”

            Finally, I return my gaze in front of me. “You may silence me, Elder Hebi, but that will not change the truth. You will face punishment for your and the council’s deeds, divine or otherwise. Mark my words.”

            Before he can say anything in return, I begin my trek towards the Sun Goddess’s Shrine, my requiem spilling from my lips.

_Ancient Ones, behold our reverence!_

_Behold our piety and faith!_

_We offer a Piece of ourselves,_

_A Piece of Your Own Creation._

_What was once given will be returned._

_Rejoice!_

_Rejoice!_

_Blood for Blood!_

_Flesh for Flesh!_

_By Thy Divine Will_

_Bless our People_

            I had said before that the song was ugly and angry, but hearing it now as I accept my fate, my feelings have changed. The song is solemn and hauntingly beautiful, the ancient tongue masking its words from the common people, and it echoes across the barren sands. It is a song of sacrifice, true, but the selflessness of the sacrifice is something that I had not appreciated until now. Perhaps it is better to realize that late than never at all. Or perhaps I am simply trying to comfort myself in what could truly be my final moments.

Far ahead, floating above the horizon, Her Shrine looms, a reminder of what is to come.

            I wonder if She can hear my song.

            The Sun is low in the sky by the time ethereal steps materialize in front of me. They are almost transparent, and I place my foot atop the first hesitantly. I nearly expect my foot to slip through, but it holds firm, as if I am placing my weight upon stone.

            I take in a shaky breath and sing my prayer once more as I climb the steps.

            The heat I felt in prior visits is gone, and is instead replaced by a gentle warmth, like a hearth during the winter. It almost makes me relax, but fear maintains an icy grip on my heart.

            As I approach the top, I could almost swear I hear the laughter of children, but perhaps I am simply losing my mind. I am sure fear has a way of doing that.

            Yet, the closer I get, the louder the laughter becomes. I can feel my pulse quicken with a fragile hope, and I nearly run up the rest of the stairs.

            At the top, a veritable paradise is laid out before me; green grass, a beautiful spring, trees thick with leaves and fruit, a massive building of an architecture that is both foreign and beautiful, but most importantly, I see _children_.

            “Lady Weiss!”

            It is Blau who spots me first and I collapse to my knees before she collides with my form and grips my shoulders in a tight hug.

            I feel numb. In front of me, every single child sacrificed from the village is here. The children are safe. They are here and they are safe.

They are _safe._

            “Lady Weiss? Why are you crying? It is not scary here! Goddess Yang is very nice! You do not have to be afraid, okay?”

            I had not realized I was crying, but the action does not feel out of place in this moment. I hug her tightly. “Indeed,” is all I can say.

            The other children quickly follow Blau’s example and surround me in a massive embrace, one that I cannot hope to completely return, but I struggle to do so regardless.

            “You will really like Goddess Yang, Lady Weiss! She always plays with us and tells funny stories and jokes,” Blau says, her plump cheeks full with a smile.

            “And She feeds us and gives us as much water as we want,” a young boy named Grun chirps.

            “How wonderful,” I hear myself say, though my mind is elsewhere, racing through every bit of knowledge I had prior to this moment. To date, none of the people have ever been into the Sun Goddess’s Shrine –we had always left the offerings below the floating island before this—so this was completely foreign territory.

            The whole place looked like the oasis of myths, and I could tell there was more here than I could see; the sound of a waterfall somewhere else on the property a testament to that.

            Furthermore, in direct contrast to the Goddess’s fiery anger, the children had not only _not_ been absorbed or killed or whatever it was Gods and Goddesses did with their sacrifices, but they had been treated _extremely_ well. The children looked healthier than I had ever seen them.

            Of course, these observations were nothing negative –quite the contrary—but rather baffling. The Sun Goddess was an absolute mystery at this point.

            Speaking of Her, I had only seen the children thus far. There was no sign of Her anywhere.

            “Blau? Where is the Goddess?”

            “Hm… She may be taking a nap. She does that often after the Sun’s peak,” Blau says, missing my look of confusion.

            Did the Gods even require naps? I shook my head; now was not the time to ponder that. “Will you take me to Her, please? I need to… discuss some things with Her.”

            “Of course!” Blau and the children took my hands, leading me further into the grounds, giggling and smiling in a way that warmed my heart. It was… a dream come true to see them alive and well again.

            I suppose since the children are alive, there is a chance that I will be spared, but I feel that it is far too early to lower my guard. After all… if I had fought harder or had more courage, they would not have had to be “sacrificed” in the first place. Perhaps She will see me as no better than the adults and Elders of the village. I hang my head.

            Whatever the Sun Goddess decides to do with me, I shall accept it without question.

            The sound of the waterfall becomes louder the longer we walk, until the roaring source is before my eyes. A beautiful waterfall cascading down a short cliff, finally ending its descent in a pond that was likely a popular swimming spot.

            Blau pointed at it. “She likes to nap in the cave behind the waterfall!”

            _Of course She does._

            I had figured as much the moment we arrived here without a single person in sight, but it does not make the reality of it any more pleasant. I am not skilled at swimming, and to be frank, the idea of swimming under the waterfall frightens me. I would be afraid to become stuck underneath its force and drown, though given how happy the children appear to be whilst gazing upon it, I doubt there is any real danger.

            Still…

            “Will She not be angry that I am disturbing Her rest? Perhaps I should speak with Her at a later time?” I doubt the children hear the desperation lacing my questions, but it still brings me a bit of embarrassment.

            “Oh no! She never minds when we wake Her! She is very nice,” Grun says, smiling in such a way that only further drives a stake through my heart.

            I suppose I should give up.

            “Thank you, children. I will speak with Her now. I will be around to play with you later.” And I mean that with every fiber of my being. Regardless of what is to become of me, my final wish will be to play with the children once more. I take a deep breath and dive into the water, surprised at the pleasant temperature. It is far warmer than I would have imagined, though it is not as though I was swimming in a hot spring. It would be pleasant enough for a bath is what I would describe it as feeling. Thoroughly pleasant.

            Thoroughly unpleasantly, I surface a meter or so from the waterfall itself. It roars in my face, and for just a moment I consider giving up, but my pride will not allow it, nor will my sense of responsibility. I take another deep breath and dive.

            I make strong strokes, pushing my way deeper, and soon I am deep enough that the waterfall does not impact my swimming, and as it is a small one, I did not have to go that far.

            A moment later I surface, hearing the telltale echo of a cave even over the sound of the water itself. Leading up to the cave is a set of stone steps, seemingly carved out of the cliff itself. They are far less slippery than they look, as I am able to pull myself up onto them easily, and after wringing out my hair and clothes for a brief moment, I make my way up them.

            My steps are muffled by the sounds of the water and the echo, and it also masks the sound of my pounding heart. I can feel it crashing against my ribs, threatening to burst, and I clutch at it with my hand; I hope that I can lessen its fervor even just a bit. As I try to calm myself, I reach the top of the steps, and I see nothing but glowing pools of water. The sight is beautiful –sky-blue water rippling and wavering on the walls, quiet drips echoing throughout—but there is no Goddess in sight.

            Hesitantly, as if my presence were an offense to the tranquility, I continue further inside. As I do, I can hear a sound increasing in volume. It is… snoring? Come to think of it, the sound is rather loud, like the cicadas at the height of summer. Could the Sun Goddess, in all Her glory and righteousness, snore? Utterly ridiculous. There must be some mistake. Yes, that must be so. Surely I am simply mishearing. Indeed, that must be what is causing me to ponder something so utterly foolish.

            And yet…

            I enter the farthest chamber at the back of the cave, and I find a woman with brilliantly blonde hair, locks wild and free, sprawled out on the floor, snoring away in robes that glitter in a manner not of the mortal realm. There is no one that the person in front of me could be other than the Sun Goddess, Herself. As attractive as She is, the bit of drool slipping from Her mouth and down Her cheek certainly has a way of decimating Her supposed regality. It is difficult to imagine the woman sprawled out and defenseless in front of me to be the same woman who is unleashing divine fury upon my village. Or former village rather.

            I consider once again leaving and saving this conversation for later, but I stand firm. Since it is a matter concerning children, I cannot waste another moment. With that out of the way, I must decide whether I should wake Her now, or simply let Her wake on Her own terms. There are obvious benefits to letting Her sleep, such as not risking Her wrath for waking Her prematurely, but by the same token, I could very well face Her wrath for watching Her sleep, or whatever it is She would think I would have been doing whilst letting Her sleep. Why did Gods and Goddesses have to be such fickle beings? At least if you woke a mortal prematurely, the most you would likely face was a scolding, not the possibility of death.

            Well, I was intended to be sacrificed regardless, so perhaps I am debating my mortality on borrowed time. With that, I suppose I may as well wake Her and move things forward. If I am to be killed, I would rather have it done quickly that piddle away my time without any real merit.

            Indeed, I shall wake Her.

            Cautiously, I approach Her, and She does not stir in the least, snoring away. I clear my throat. “Sun Goddess? Your Divine Grace?”

            What is the appropriate way to wake a Goddess? I was never taught this when I was training to be a priestess. Although then again, I doubt the situation would be a common enough one to warrant passing its knowledge on.

            Despite my voice and the distant roar of the waterfall, She does not so much as twitch, Her snoring uninterrupted.

            …

            Perhaps I shall try again.

            “Sun Goddess? Can Your Divine Grace hear me?”

            Nothing.

            She was well and truly asleep.

            _Wonderful._

Perhaps… I should try nudging Her?

            The thought may be blasphemous –a mortal touching a Goddess without permission would surely earn them a smiting—but what else could I do? And I would likely die regardless, so what was the harm in hurrying it along just a bit?

            …

            My own complacency is beginning to frighten me.

            I shake my head and crouch down to Her slumbering form. I hesitate for a brief second before I touch my hand to Her shoulder. Even through Her clothes, I can feel powerful muscle, and my breath catches for just a moment before I regain my senses. I gently nudge Her shoulder. “Sun Goddess?”

            Finally, She stirs, a snore cutting off abruptly as Her eyes open halfway.

            “Goddess?”

            For a moment, She stares at me unblinking, before Her jaw slackens and Her cheeks turn red.

            _What kind of a reaction is that? Is She embarrassed?_

“Sun Goddess? Are You well?” I ask carefully, unsure of what to make of the sight before me.

            She seems to regain Herself, as Her jaw closes with an audible click, though the color to Her cheeks does not abate. “Ah, yes, I am fine. Your concern is appreciated.” She coughs. “You must be the priestess of the village, Weiss Schnee, correct?”

            “Yes, Sun Goddess.” She is surprisingly polite, speaking to me as an equal rather than an insect or some other lowly lifeform.

            “What brings you to my Shrine?”

            _That_ certainly surprises me. I would have thought She would have known, especially given my prayer song as I journeyed here. “I was designated to be the next sacrifice, and so I have come here to please You. I… must confess that I also came here with a selfish reason in mind.”

            I had averted my eyes with a bit of shame, but when I look to Her, She looks visibly stunned.

            “You… _YOU WHAT?!”_

Her voice suddenly booms like a crack of thunder, and I cannot help but to cover my ears and cower before Her anger. She must have taken offense to my selfishness, when I am nothing but a sacrifice. How could I have become so vain as to think I could demand things of a Goddess?

            “My deepest apologies, Sun Goddess. I was not thinking when I let my own desires cloud my purpose. Please punish me in whatever way Your Divine Will sees fit.” I lower my forehead until it touches the floor of the cave, my hands in front of me; I am the image of pious servility.

            “Wha—Raise your head, Weiss Schnee! How have you become the sacrifice? I expected another child, not a holy woman of marriageable age!” She is practically suffused by flames when I raise my head, and Her eyes, once a lovely lilac have become the color of blood.

            “I deeply apologize for not being suitable to Your tastes, Sun Goddess. They selected me because I was the last healthy youth in the village and felt that if they offered You a sickly child, You would punish them further.” I do not know what to do other than apologize and answer everything as truthfully as I can. Nothing about our meeting is going as I expected.

            She runs a hand through Her bangs, releasing a frustrated breath. “I understand their thoughts. I will have to investigate later.” She then mutters something to Herself before turning to me. “What was your ‘selfish’ motive for coming here, Weiss Schnee? I will hear it without judgement.”

            I feel my mouth open and close uselessly for a brief moment, before I finally regain myself. “Thank you, Goddess. I had come here with the intention of asking as to why Your Holiness has punished us thusly, and what You truly wish for.”

            She raises a brow, Her expression… somewhere between impressed and relieved? “’What I truly wish for?’ What gave you the impression that I did not wish for sacrifices?”

            “Forgive my presumptuousness, but through the entirety of the existence of the village, not once did You demand a human sacrifice. The sudden assumption that You wished for a sacrifice seemed… _off_ to me. You had always been benevolent and content with our offerings of our crops, so to suddenly change that seemed unusual, even with Your anger.”

            She rubbed the back of Her head, looking surprisingly sheepish. “Ah, I apologize for my lack of communication. I would like to explain my actions if you would be willing to listen?”

            She was genuinely asking me, a mortal, to indulge Her. If She was not waiting for an answer, I likely would have let my jaw drop for an unsightly amount of time. I collect myself. “Of course, Sun Goddess. I would love to hear what it is You have to say.”

            She glances me up and down, seeming to note my soaked attire. “We can talk in the main structure, where I can give you something else to wear and some food to eat if you are hungry.”

            “By your will, Sun Goddess.” She really is as kind as the children said. Now I am more confused than ever by Her anger. Hopefully our conversation will be enlightening.

 

* * *

 

 

            She helps me swim back to the outside shore and seems to use Her abilities as a Goddess of the Sun to dry Herself in an instant, and in that same instant I am a touch envious.

            As we return to the main structure, the children call out to Her, and She greets each one with genuine enthusiasm. It warms my heart, and it helps me to call out to them as well. I have missed the joy they brought to that lifeless village.

            The structure itself looks large from the outside, but inside it is the size of a veritable palace with massive rooms and sky-high ceilings. The inside is pristine in its upkeep, with not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. The walls are covered with paintings that could have been done only by the hands of children, and I can feel my heart ache at the sight.

            _It is as if She is a proud mother._

She takes me to a large room with drawers of all sizes and armoires and gestures to them vaguely. “I am afraid I have nothing prepared for you since I did not expect you to be sacrificed, so you will have to borrow something of mine. Take whatever suits your fancy.”

            Though there is nothing in the scriptures or legends to say as such, I am sure that there is some kind of blasphemy in the act of wearing clothes of a Goddess, but since She is offering and there is little else I can do short of refusing and soaking Her floors with my wet clothes, I accept with gratitude and a deep bow.

            She exits the room, pulling the sliding door shut to give me some privacy. I do not want to waste Her time waiting for me, so I find a set of robes nearly identical to Her foreign ones in a blue color I have always liked and pull it on to the best of my ability.

            I glance at myself in the mirror positioned against one of the walls, but I cannot discern if I have made a mistake in putting it on, so I give up and leave the room, finding Her just outside.

            “I apologize for making You wait, Sun Goddess.”

            She gapes when She sees me, Her cheeks flushing for just a moment before She coughs and regains Herself. “You did fairly well for your first attempt,” She says, retying the sash around my waist and adjusting my collar. “The children usually just wrapped the sash around themselves endlessly until it stayed in place,” She says with a chuckle, one which I mirror.

            When She is satisfied with Her work, She nods and gestures for me to follow Her down the hall and into a room with a wooden table and cushions laid out around it. “Please take any seat you like. Would you like some tea?”

            I hesitantly take a seat across from Her, mirroring Her kneeling position atop one of the cushions, and I find myself surprised at the plushness. “Ah, yes, I would like some, thank you.”

            She claps Her hands and a tea set appears at the table, steam pouring out the spout of the pot. She pours a cup for me first, then Herself, taking a sip when She sets the pot back in its place.

            I take notice of the unusual green color, but elect not to mention it, deciding to take a sip instead. I put my lips to the edge of the cup and take a bit of the tea.

It takes everything in me to not recoil.

_Bitter!_

The tea is so incredibly bitter I want nothing more than to spit it back into the cup, but such a thing would be rude, especially to a Goddess who offered it to me, so I do my best to hide my grimace behind my cup and swallow.

“I see that you dislike the tea, Weiss. Have you never had matcha before?” She asks this with an amused expression, seemingly having noticed my attempts to be discrete with my distaste.

“I apologize, Sun Goddess. This is my first time drinking it. I confess… I did not expect it to be so bitter; even more so than the black teas my village enjoys.” I wish for nothing more than to crawl into the woven flooring, but naturally I can do nothing other than sit here in my shame.

She laughs heartily, and I feel a twinge in my heart at the sound. “I’ve found that to be the general consensus. Unfortunately, it is not meant to be drank with sugar, but rather it should be served with sweets to help balance the bitterness.” She claps Her hands once more and a tray of sweet jellies and candies appear on a plate before me. “These should help you to enjoy the tea more. I would offer you the black teas you enjoy, but I have none at the moment. Perhaps I should grow some of their plants myself.”

I take another sip of my tea, hiding my grimace just a bit more smoothly this time before I pick up a jelly sprinkled with sugar and pop it into my mouth. The sweetness coats my tongue and cuts through the bitterness like a knife through a plant stalk, and I find myself humming in delight.

“I am glad you like it,” She says with a smile that feels fond, as if She is taking joy in my delight. Such a thought is flattering. Then, She grips Her cup firmly. “Well, I suppose I should begin my explanation, yes?”

“At Your leisure, Sun Goddess.”

She gazes pensively into Her cup. “I am responsible for the Sun, as you know, and that duty entails not only the cycling of the day into the night, but it also entails managing the intensity of the Sun’s rays. The Earth is a planet of cycles –the four seasons, the Sun and the rain, life and death—and life cannot thrive without such cycling. Every so often, I must allow the Sun’s rays to beat down more harshly upon the Earth, to rejuvenate the soils and to encourage the people to rotate their crops.” She looks up to me then. “Do you understand so far?”

I nod.

“Good,” She says with a smile that quickly fades back into somberness. “The people of your village seemed to have forgotten this teaching. Perhaps the scriptures were lost or destroyed, or perhaps the tales were forgotten, but the fact remains that the droughts must happen. When the people failed to rotate the crops or conserve their water, they became desperate and angry, lashing out and cursing me for killing them. I did not feel angered at that, rather I pitied them for their suffering and ignorance. I was going to tell your elder sister of the teachings so she may pass on the message, but she was married off and left the village before I had the chance, and you were not yet ready to become the next priestess, so I could not speak with you either.”

She takes a long sip of Her tea, then sets it down, staring unseeingly into its contents. “Frankly, it was an oversight of the Gods and Goddesses to only allow certain mortals to hear their words, but that is a discussion for another time.” She takes another sip and reorients Herself. “What happened after your sister left was a spiral of events that only became more and more difficult to stop.”

She lifts Her gaze, finally looking at me for the first time since She began Her tale. Her expression is conflicted, and I cannot discern anything from it. “As the water dried up and the stores dwindled, the Elders became desperate and greedy, and began to secretly store away water for themselves, selectively distributing it to avoid a riot. They gave the people just enough to keep them complacent. That angered me, naturally, but when the _children_ became wrapped up in their fiendish schemes, when the _children_ began to suffer because their own _parents_ would not share what little water they had, I could no longer contain myself.”

Finally, I see something in Her conflicted expression; _shame._ “My anger overtook me, _consumed me,_ and it only made everything worse. My being is so connected to the Sun that I must consciously exercise discipline over my emotions in order to keep its heat in moderation, but I failed to do that when I saw the injustice the children, and _you,_ suffered under. I let my anger overtake me, and you and the children felt the brunt of it.”

She grips Her cup so tightly I fear that it will shatter in Her hands. “And to my shame, I could not stop myself. The longer the elders and the adults of the village sacrificed the children to save their own lives, the more angered I became, and the more angered I became, the more intense the Sun’s heat became, and it became an endless cycle that I could not stop. Over and over it repeated itself until I feared I would go mad, until the day that they sacrificed little Blau.”

Her name makes me grip my own cup more tightly, feeling the weight of my own failures rest upon my shoulders. “I failed to save her,” I say quietly. I hate myself, and I hate that I failed a child when she needed me the most.

I am surprised when the Sun Goddess rests a hand over my own, smiling at me so kindly I feel tears prick at my eyes. My heart aches. “You did what you could, Weiss. I saw your efforts, your struggle to help the children when there was no one to help you, not even the very one you asked for help from.” Her smile turns bitter then. “I apologize for failing you when you asked for my help. I apologize for allowing my anger to best me in your and the children’s time of need.”

She retreats a bit until She has enough room to press Her forehead to the ground and place Her hands in front of Herself, prostrating before me.

I am so completely flabbergasted at the sight that the only thing I can think to do is panic. “No, Sun Goddess! Please raise Your head! I am not one that You should lower Yourself before!”

“Nonsense,” She declares, never once raising Her head from its place on the floor. “I could hear your prayers, but I was so wrapped up in my anger that I failed to answer you. If I had only spoken to you of the old teachings, neither you nor the children would have had to be sacrificed.”

I am so thoroughly uncomfortable with the sight of a _Goddess_ bowing before me, and yet there is nothing I can do to stop Her. Perhaps bringing the conversation back to the day of Blau’s sacrifice will make Her raise Her head. Even though the subject is a terribly unpleasant one, I try to take solace in the fact that Blau is alive and happy here. She and the rest of the children are alive and happy, and I must remind myself of that, if nothing else for my own sanity.

“Goddess, please raise Your head and continue Your tale. What happened on the day of Blau’s sacrifice?” The word “sacrifice” is bitter upon my tongue, much like my cup of tea that has likely gone cold by now, but we must keep moving. _Blau is alive. Blau is happy. She was not truly sacrificed_.

Finally, the Sun Goddess raises Her head. “Ah, yes. There is still more to tell.” Once She has reseated Herself and has poured Herself another cup of tea, She continues, though Her expression remains clouded. “On the day of Blau’s sacrifice, I heard your voice singing the Song of Sacrifice, and I felt a burst of anger towards the people so potent I feared I would scorch the entire Earth, but when she climbed the steps, quivering and sobbing, all of my anger melted away in an instant.”

Her expression is filled with a bitter regret. “She cowered at the sight of me, and why would she not? I had done nothing but make her life harder. In that moment, I swore that I would spend an eternity repaying her for my mistakes. I took her in as if she were my own –I fed her both healthy things and the sweets she loved so much, I clothed her in robes I had not worn since I was her age, I played whatever games she liked and gave her whatever she wanted—and I realized something; her parents had been _happy_ to sacrifice her if it meant appeasing me, and here she was, happier and healthier with me than she ever had been with them. I had seen them lay hands upon her and swore that she would be shielded from such abuses under my care.”

She takes a long sip from her cup, gripping it tightly once more. “I would repay her for my failings. But when Grun was sacrificed, I felt my anger resurge once more, and I repeated the same cycle of emotions and promises I had with Blau. I repeated my same mistakes again, and so soon after my earlier declarations to stop.”

She shakes Her head. “Mortals worship the Gods and Goddesses, and yet we are just as full of contradictions and failings as they. We put ourselves upon a pedestal and pretend that our struggles are so much more righteous and glorious than theirs. In truth, we are no better than the mortals we claim to stand above; a hypocrisy so tangible you could choke upon it.”

“Imperfect beings cannot create perfection.”

There is something distinctly uncomfortable about hearing a _Goddess_ admit that She is far from perfect, and though mortals are aware of this fact, there is nothing to do with that knowledge. What could a mortal hope to do with the knowledge other than anger a being who would not hesitate to strike them down for it?

I watch Her with weary eyes. I am unsure as to whether I should say something in reply, but I cannot think of anything appropriate for such a bizarre circumstance, so I elect to stay quiet.

She takes one of the sweets from the table and chews on it slowly, seemingly unable to take any enjoyment in the treat. She looks hollow. “As you know, the cycle kept repeating and more and more children were sacrificed to me until you arrived. I have been so consumed with my own mistakes that the last bastion of hope for the children of the village sits before me as a sacrifice.”

“I just want it to _stop._ ”

The look She levels at me is one so full of anguish, so full of a desperate pleading that I can feel my own emotions becoming tangled. She looks so vulnerable and _human;_ I feel tears prick at my eyes, and before I can stop myself, I move around the table and embrace Her with all the strength I possess.

I feel Her tense for the briefest instance before She melts into my arms, gripping at my robes the same way Blau did on her day of sacrifice. It pulls at the strings of my heart so sharply I feel raw. I can count the number of times I have felt so strongly on a single hand, but for the first time, I feel it for another’s plight; _a Goddess’s plight._ A Goddess whose tears have seeped into the beautiful robes She lent me.

I let one of my hands wander across Her back, moving in motions I hope are soothing, and once Her sobs have quieted considerably, I take a deep breath and share my own thoughts.

“Sun Goddess, indeed, I wish You had communicated these teachings You spoke of, but that time has passed. The children are here and they are better than they ever would have been in that awful village, and though the circumstances that brought them here are not ideal, the fact remains that it was You who took responsibility for Your mistakes.”

I tense when the word “mistakes” slips past my lips, ready for Her to fly into a rage at my slight, but to my mild surprise, She only nods, acknowledging both my statement and Her own failings. Such a minor act gives me the courage to keep going.

“What matters now is how You will act in the future; You must stop the sacrifices. The question will be how You intend to do so, and… though it may be incredibly presumptuous of me… I would like to offer my assistance to You. I have my own mistakes to atone for, and helping You will allow me to begin to make up for them if You will have me.”

She pulls Her face from my shoulder, tear trails painting lines down Her cheeks, and I am struck by the desire to wipe them away, though I restrain myself. “Your help would be most appreciated, Weiss,” She says with a smile that is laced with a growing hope.

Slowly, She reaches Her hands to my cheeks, keeping Her eyes trained on mine as She carefully wipes my tears away with calloused fingers. The action is so simple, yet it lights a flame in my heart that only grows the longer Her lilac eyes gaze into mine. “We will find a solution. _Together._ ”

_Together._

It is one word, yet the weight behind it is enough to bring my tears back once more, and the Sun Goddess patiently wipes them away. She neglects Her own tears, which have resumed just as mine have, and I decide to push the boundaries once more; I bring my hands to Her cheeks, and She nuzzles into them. I nearly falter at the unexpected action, but I press on, taking it as permission; I wipe away Her tears with the pads of my thumbs.

We mirror each other in our motions, when tears fall from one’s eyes, the other wipes them away. Over and over we take each drop of pain and ease it away in the only way we can, in the only way that feels like we are cleansing ourselves of our guilt and our suffering, our personal struggles that spilled over and swept others up in the chaos.

In this brief, fleeting, yet timeless moment, we are one in the same.

We are _together_.

And _together,_ we will right our wrongs and bring punishment to those who deserve it.

The adults and Elders of the too-sunny sky will see retribution for their sins.

We _will_ see to that.

 

* * *

 

 

After our talk, Goddess Yang had bade me to play with the children, saying She had known I wished to spend time with them. She smiled in a way that made my heart flutter within my chest, and so I only nodded and joined them in a game of tag.

It was refreshing to see them so happy, so full of life, so full of a vigor that had been snatched away by the Sun’s harsh rays. Here, they could be how they were meant to be; they could be children.

Presently, they have dubbed me to be “it,” and I am pretending the children are far too fast for me. Some of the older ones may know I am easing up, but they elect to not comment. I cannot help but smile as I chase them, sending them squealing in different directions and laughing as I chase their friends. It is such a pure moment and I revel in it.

Finally, after a sufficient amount of pretending, I snatch up Blau in my hands and raise her above me with a spin. She squeals and giggles, squirming in my grip, and I plant a quick kiss on her cheek.

“You all look like you are having fun,” Goddess Yang says. Her smile is so fond I can feel my heart clench. “May I join in?”

A resounding chorus of “yes!” makes Her laugh. “Then, I shall join Weiss’s side! She could make use of the extra help, I am sure.” She tilts Her head at me with a grin, and I can only nod, grateful for the slight break I will be afforded. As much as I enjoy the game, and as fit as I am, chasing children with near-limitless energy is exhausting. Wonderful, but exhausting.

“Are you ready?” She asks, raising Her hands and wiggling Her fingers mischievously. “I will not hold back!”

The children squeal and run off in varying directions faster than they ever had with me chasing them. Though, I can imagine that Goddess Yang has soundly crushed them in the past, thus warranting this reaction.

She shrugs helplessly. “Shall we split up? I will check around the waterfall.” I can tell She claimed that area in consideration of my trepidation towards swimming, and it makes me smile.

“Then I shall check around here. The younger ones cannot have gotten far.”

With a quick smile and a nod shared between us, we break off, Goddess Yang running at such a high speed I feel a gust of wind surge through my hair. I suppose that much is to be expected of a Deity.

I sneak around the area of the main house, keeping my footsteps light and my eyes wide for any signs of movement. The youngest ones are not yet good at figuring out where the best places to hide are, so I pretend I do not see them initially.

“Oh dear! Where could the children have gone?” I call out, and to my amusement, I hear poorly-stifled giggles from the bushes around me. “I do not see them anywhere! They have disappeared!” More poorly-stifled giggles ensue, and I decide it is about time for me to catch them.

I feign as if I am going to walk in the opposite direction, before I lunge toward the bush and snatch up Grun from his place. “Got you!”

He squeals in delight, wiggling within my grasp and trying to get away, but his laughter is sapping his strength.

Perhaps it is a bit cruel, but I tickle his ribs for good measure, and he becomes like clay in my hands. I give him a peck on the cheek, much like I did Blau, and search for the others with Grun’s hand in mine.

I find many of the other children in the same manner, though the last few are sold out by their captured comrades, which causes a bit of playful bickering. Fortunately, the main sounds I hear are the children’s laughter, and it fills my heart. Truly, there is nothing else that I could have wished for upon my arrival here.

Instead of death, I am welcomed into a veritable paradise. What more is there for me but this, and the justice which I, and Goddess Yang, will rain down upon the village which caused this mess in the first place.

In a bizarre way, I suppose I am a touch grateful to the decrepit elders and the selfish adults of the village. If it were not for their failings, the children and I may never have gotten to this point. However, there is no excuse for their actions, and thus any misplaced gratitude I may feel is vastly overshadowed by my desire for their recompense. Is that vindictive of me? Perhaps, but because Goddess Yang shares my sentiments, I am less inclined to feel guilt.

I clear my mind of such mood-souring thoughts and guide the children towards the waterfall. I would assume that Goddess Yang has found the children by now and they are playing together in the area.

“Lady Weiss?”

“Hm? What is it, Grun?”

“Do you like Goddess Yang?”

There is something about the way he asks that catches me off-guard. Children tend to have an uncanny ability to ask things that truly strike at your heart and innermost thoughts. Frankly, as She is a Goddess, She is beyond simply “liking” and “disliking.” Deities, though, are exceptions to rules, and Goddess Yang even more so, considering our rather unique experience of comforting one another just moments ago. Somehow, that moment felt both right and wrong, though I feel the “wrong” part comes from everything I was taught as a priestess; that I am not a friend to the Gods and Goddesses, but a vessel for Their wills; we are not friends, but Deities and mortal.

“Of course I do. She is far kinder than I could ever have imagined, and She treats you all so well,” is the response I settle upon. No sense in blathering about the complex relations between priestesses and Deities, especially when I cannot understand half of what is transpiring here myself.

“Do you think She is beautiful?”

I nearly choke on my own saliva at that, and I can feel my cheeks and ears heat. Why are children so skilled at asking the most awkward of questions?

“Er… why do you ask?” Answering a question with a question is not my most inspired deflection tactic, but I hope it will suffice regardless.

“Because She is very beautiful to me, and I wondered if She was the same to you, Lady Weiss.”

Oh.

Oh, is that all? No need to be flustered then.

“Indeed, I find Her beautiful. Perhaps one of the most beautiful beings I have ever seen, but Gods and Goddesses tend to be as such.”

Grun nods, seeming to understand that Goddesses and mortals are not to be compared on the same scale. It would be tantamount to comparing a worm to a bird of paradise.

“Is that why your cheeks redden whenever She speaks to you?”

This child will be the death of me, I swear. “Something to that effect would not be incorrect to say, I suppose.”

He fixes me with a quizzical look. “So, does that mean ‘yes’ or ‘no?’”

Goodness, he _really_ is going to make me say it, it seems. I swallow my embarrassment. “It means ‘yes,’ Grun.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied, but then he suddenly points in a direction and shouts, “Goddess Yang! Lady Weiss has found all of us,” and it nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

“Did she? Well done, Weiss!” She smiles brightly, and I can feel my heart flip once more. I fear for my health if I continue to stay nearby someone so stunning.

“I found the rest of the children as well, so that means that Weiss and I are the victors! Better luck next time, little ones!” She looks quite proud and laughs when the children pout about their loss. “Do not fret! There are treats awaiting you inside. Weiss and I will join you momentarily.”

That certainly appeases them, as they all hurry inside with shouts of joy and giggles. I would not be surprised if this was a common occurrence at the Shrine. As soon as their voices have faded, I am given little reprieve before Goddess Yang sets Her gaze upon me.

“Tonight, I wish to discuss our plans for your former village. Once the children have laid down for rest, we will make our preparations. Will that be acceptable?”

“Yes, of course. The sooner they answer for their sins, the better.”

We nod solemnly, a moment of silence passes before Goddess Yang looks… embarrassed? Her cheeks are quite flushed suddenly, and She is having trouble meeting my gaze.

“Is there… something on Your mind, Goddess Yang?” I venture.

“I… suppose you could say that, yes.” She still will not look me in the eye. Have I done something?

“Please, do not hesitate on account of me. Speak freely as You would with any other.” Perhaps reassurance is the way to approach this?

She fidgets, which I cannot help but think is rather… cute of Her.

…

Is that a blasphemous thought to have toward a Goddess who radiates power?

“I… heard what you said a moment ago,” She says, startling me out of my piety crisis.

“What I said?” Well, I would expect Her to have heard me since I replied to Her request for preparing tonight directly. Why would She mention that, let alone feel sheepish about it?

“Indeed…” She raises a brow at me, seeming to gauge my reaction, though I only mirror Her.

“I see?” I cannot help the question in my voice. I feel we are not talking about the same thing, but I cannot think of what She may be referring to for the life of me.

She watches me for another moment before pushing out a breath and running Her fingers through Her bangs. “I am not referring to our conversation just a moment before. I am referring to your conversation with Grun.”

With Grun?

…With Grun…

_Oh._

I feel my cheeks and ears nearly burst with heat.

I am an absolute _imbecile_. A complete and utter _fool_.

“I see that you understand my meaning now,” She says carefully, keeping Her eyes firmly elsewhere.

I wish to vanish immediately.

“…Yes, Goddess Yang.” What else can I say? I am terribly ill-equipped to handle a situation such as this. Why is priestess training so useless when I seemingly need it the most? For what purpose did I spend all that time on it? So I could boast about it to some fool who asked?

She coughs into Her fist, raising it to cover Her surprisingly red cheeks. “I… ah… also find you to be quite beautiful, Weiss. So much so that you could rival a Goddess.”

I want to scream.

“…I am very grateful to hear You say as such, though surely You are exaggerating…”

What is happening? What is _happening_?

“I speak only the truth. You stole my breath away when you first came to me in the cave.”

What is the proper etiquette for responding to such blatant compliments from a _Goddess_? I have not been trained for such a scenario. _Why_ have I not been trained for such a scenario? Oh, right; because _it never happens._

“Your words flatter me, and I am not exaggerating when I say that Your Visage inspires much the same in myself.”

Wait…

Am I returning Her flirtations? _Are_ they flirtations?

_I am completely beyond understanding anything that is happening at this moment._

If I am to die soon, it will likely be from however this conversation ends.

“Is that so…? I am glad to hear you say as such.” She looks quite happy if my eyes are not deceiving me. “Perhaps… after we discuss our plans for your former village… we can discuss this further?”

Why is She phrasing it as a question? She looks as if She genuinely wishes to hear my thoughts on Her proposal. She could demand I become Her concubine at any moment and I would be unable to refuse, yet She is asking me for my input as if She were a common mortal from the village.

She is so far beyond my expectations of how a Goddess behaves that I have absolutely nothing to help me navigate this situation.

Truly, I want to scream.

But, I do not.

“I quite like that idea,” is somehow what I say instead. Who is the one taking control of my mouth and why have they not consulted with me? I have no idea as to what I am saying anymore, so I may as well give up hoping that I will.

“Then let us return inside. I am sure you are quite hungry, and we will need all of our mental strength to concoct our plan.” She gestures toward the house and extends Her other arm to me, seemingly beckoning me to rest my hand at the crook of Her elbow.

_Ah, to Hell with it._

I take the proffered spot, and we reenter the main house together.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was a lively affair thanks to the children being utterly oblivious to any sort of tension that existed between Goddess Yang and I. Truly, if it were not for them, She and I likely would have eaten our meals in total silence. Grun and Blau also kept my attention firmly on my food as they told me what among the many small plates in front of me tasted good. I had never seen any of the dishes in front of me, so I was quite grateful for their help. They also taught me how to use the little wooden stick utensils, so I did not make a complete fool of myself.

Once dinner had finished, Goddess Yang read the children some folktales from Her homeland, written in a script I had never seen before. She gave each of the characters a unique voice and acted out some of the parts, which delighted the children and sent them dissolving into peals of laughter. She really was quite good with them. It warmed my heart to see.

She finished the tales, then instructed the children to wash up and lay down for sleep, and together She and I tucked each and every one of them in and gave them a quick kiss to the forehead before we bade them goodnight.

I truly felt like a parent and spouse when Goddess Yang and I took care of the children like this, and somehow, the thought did not repulse me like it had when I had imagined myself doing the same with a husband one day. Curious.

            Naturally, children being children, we had to reprimand them for talking or playing a few times, but it was nothing that either of us were unable to handle. Thankfully, such things only took around half of an hour, and when we were well and truly sure that the children had _finally_ settled down, we took our places at the same table Goddess Yang and I had discussed our circumstances at.

            She folded Her hands together in a terribly serious-looking manner. “Very well, let us begin planning the retribution of your former village.” Her gaze softened for a moment. “First, I wish to ask if you are truly fine with this.”

            “With taking part in the planning?”

            “Indeed. What I have planned will not be easy for a mortal to witness, let alone take part in, so know that I will not begrudge you for refraining. You may live here regardless, and I will think no less of you.” She took my hands in Her own, Her grip firm. “So, I ask you again; will you accept the mental burden of assisting in the destruction of your former village?”

            I wince slightly. While I had assumptions about what would be done, it is still startling to hear it said aloud. True, the people are horrible and richly deserving of punishment, but who am _I_ to assist a _Goddess_ in _Her_ duties? Would it not be blasphemous of me to assume I am anywhere near Her position of governance over Her creations when I, too, am one of them?

            “I know this is a difficult thing to ponder, Weiss. Take any amount of time you need,” Goddess Yang says, seemingly sensing my plight. She releases my hands and summons cups of tea and the same sweets as we had earlier. “I often find tea calming; it helps me center myself when I am surrounded by the chaos of my own mind.”

            “Thank you,” I mutter, before I take my own cup and sip at it. The bitterness certainly has a way of attracting attention, though I am not sure that was what She meant. Still, the gesture is not lost on me.

            “May I ask You a question, Goddess Yang?” Perhaps it would be better to simply ask rather than stew upon it myself.

            “Of course.”

            “…Is it right for me to take part in this?”

            A quiet sound of understanding escapes Her lips. “Do you feel as if it would be presumptuous of you to do something that is typically a Goddess’s work?”

            She understood me completely. “Indeed. I am conflicted because I do wish to take part for my own satisfaction, but my training has taught me that I am a vessel for a Goddess, not a Goddess myself. Would it not be blasphemous of me to take part?”

            She takes a long sip of Her tea with a hum. “As I told you before, Gods and Goddess are imperfect beings, so I cannot give you a perfect answer. However, I can answer anything that relates to myself and my values as a Goddess, and at least to me, your actions would not be blasphemous because I am _asking_ you to take part in this. Another God or Goddess might think differently, but that is a different matter.”

She stands, and I can only watch in a mixture of horror and perverse fascination as She kneels before me. “Here and now, I, Yang Xiao Long, Goddess of the Sun and Power, ask you, Priestess Weiss Schnee, to assist me in bringing righteous justice down upon your former village.”

I feel no pressure to answer to the affirmative –the only thing I feel is my worries fading to the back of my mind in the face of Her display. All that remains is my own declaration; I want the people of my former village to pay for what they have done, for the lives they were willing to sacrifice, and for their greed.

I want to take part in their retribution.

“Yes, Goddess Yang, I will gladly assist You.”

“Very well. Then let us truly begin.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So in summary, on the night of the full Moon, you shall enter the village, rouse the remaining children, and bring them here. Once all of you have returned safely, I will purge those who remain, yes?”

“Indeed, though I will need Your blessings to allow me to smuggle the children undetected. I doubt that the youngest ones will be able to keep quiet when I return so suddenly.”

She seems to ponder the whole thing a bit, before She meets my gaze and nods once. “Very well.  I will use my divinity to put a slumbering blessing upon the adults and Elders. They will not wake until I allow them to do so.” She clenches Her fist. “They shall be awake for their punishment; they will know their sins before they pay for them. Perhaps they will repent some in the end.”

“If they do repent, would You spare any of them?” I doubt She will, but I find myself curious all the same. She was the more forgiving sort of Goddess before the drought struck us, so perhaps She will forgive some of what they have done.

Though, unsurprisingly, She shakes Her head. “The time for repentance has long since passed. The only benefit they will garner from it is a less torturous Afterlife. Perhaps one of the Underworld Gods or Goddesses will take pity on them; Ereshkigal has always been a softer one on the humans.”

I feel a slight twinge in my chest of what I can assume is guilt, but when I think of the greed of the Elders, the slothfulness of the adults --the neglect of their own children and grandchildren to save their pitiful lives—the feeling goes away as quickly as it came. Do I have any right to take part in this? To judge the sins of my fellow people and watch as they receive their just desserts? I do not know, and to be frank, I have not a care. I have made my decision and I will see it through to the end. And if I am to be truly honest, I will take no small amount of joy in seeing their retribution come to fruition.

If the other Gods and Goddesses condemn me for my choice, then so be it.

Until that day comes, I will continue to believe in Her.

“It seems we are finished. Then, in two days’ time, we shall enact our plan upon the village underneath the too-sunny sky.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you will try to keep your mind at ease during that time. Of course, myself and the children will do our utmost to keep you preoccupied, but if it becomes too much, please know that you may speak to me at any time.”

I smile at the earnestness I see in Her lilac orbs. “You have my sincerest gratitude, Goddess Yang.”

“Of course! It is the least I can do for you.” She places a hand over mine and gently runs Her thumb over my knuckles. “And if we are of the same mind once this is over, I will do far more.”

There is a promise in Her gaze, one that steals my breath, and I hope my own conveys my feelings just as well. “I… look forward to that.”

The matter closes then, but our hands do not separate as we gaze at the stars from a spot overlooking a pond of brightly-colored fish, a bit of foreign alcohol shared between us. Her smile that falls on me is just as warm as She, and it assures me that even if I come to regret this one day, I will never be alone.

 

* * *

 

 

In the two days before our plan is to be enacted, Goddess Yang and the children keep my mind busy. The children entertained me with games and silly antics in the light of the sun, and Goddess Yang enthralled me with stories of Her culture and history in the light of the Moon.

The kindness was never lost on me, but I feared those moments before I slept the most --my mind too ready to wander. She seemed to anticipate that as well, because She pulled Her futon into my room and laid next to me, keeping light conversation that lulled me into a surprisingly peaceful slumber. Perhaps it was because She is a Goddess, but She seemed to know me better than I know myself, knew exactly what I would fear before I could begin to overthink. In any instant where my mind threatened to get the better of me, She seemed to provide a perfect solution.

It is no surprise to me that I would fall in love with Her even further because of such.

She was a honeyed trap that I willingly flew into, though the tender touches and gentle, but earnest reassurances told me that perhaps I was the same for Her.

I was so absorbed in everything else that the time for reckoning had arrived sooner than I had thought, and suddenly I found myself on the very eve of our plan.

Goddess Yang pulls me into an embrace and whispers an incantation in Her ancient tongue. “A blessing to keep the chill of the night away,” She says simply.

“Thank you.” I feel a pleasant warmth envelop me; it reminds me of the embrace just a moment ago.

“Are you ready?” Though the intent is obvious, underneath Her question is an implication that if I so chose, I could refrain and She would handle everything.

Anything less than complete resolve will only worry Her. “Yes. Let us begin.”

“Very well. Know that I will be with you every step of the way. Just think of me and I will be able to connect our minds.”

I nod. “Thank you. I shall be off.”

“Be safe,” She calls as I descend the stairs out of Her Shrine.

The night is quiet, and with the earth having dried so severely, there are no creatures or insects to disturb it. I feel a sense of unease being alone after becoming accustomed to the vibrancy of Goddess Yang and the children, but I push the thought out of my mind. Tonight, everything is about the remaining children in the village, and any stray thoughts will only distract me from my mission.

I skulk among the hills of dirt and sand, the light of the Moon guiding my footsteps, and in a few brief moments, I stand at the edge of the village. I hesitate for the briefest second, but I push forward and enter the first house.

The house of little Lila is quiet, save for the heavy snores of her parents. I find them quickly as the larger houses belong to the Elders. Lila sleeps peacefully, though she is looking more gaunt than when I had last seen her. She is nearly a decade, but the lack of water and food has taken a heavier toll on her than some of the others and she appears much like the children with only half a decade to their names.

I feel any remaining guilt and apprehension slip away when I see her sunken cheeks.

This is for the best.

I rouse her gently, a hand to her shoulder and a quiet call of her name. When she rouses, she squints at me. “Priestess Weiss? Is that truly you? Or am I seeing another dream?”

“It is truly me, Lila. I apologize for waking you, but I have come to take you and the other children to Goddess Yang’s Shrine.”

Her eyes grow wide, the fear plain in them. “Has She demanded the rest of us be sacrificed?”

I pull her into a hug that I hope is soothing. “No, child. She and I wish to liberate you from this torture you have been forced into. The other children are alive and well at Her Shrine with all the food and sweets one could ever desire. There is more than enough water to quench your thirst as well.”

I can feel her twitch in my arms. “The others are truly well? And there is food and water?”

I pull back to see tears sliding down her cheeks and I use my thumbs to wipe them away. “Everything I have said is the truth. However, you must know that only the children will be allowed to enter Her Shrine.” I want her to know everything before we depart. I know that leaving her parents will not be easy, even if they have treated her poorly, but she must know that her own fate and theirs will no longer be intertwined.

“And what of my parents, Lady Weiss? What of the parents of the other children?” I see that she already knows the answer –she was always an incredibly bright child—but hearing me say it will give her the closure she yearns for.

“They will be left to their fate, one that Goddess Yang intends to dispense Herself. Fear not, you have nothing to repent for. She is actually quite kind, and I am sure that She will welcome you with open arms.” I gaze into her wide eyes. “Will you follow me?”

Lila is silent, glancing to her parents for a long moment, until she speaks. “Very well. I wish to go with you, Lady Weiss, and I will help you with the other children, but…”

She bites her lip.

“Speak your mind, Lila. I will not be cross.”

“May I… may I have a moment to bid my parents farewell? And to gather some of my things?”

I can see unshed tears in her eyes –of course it is only natural—and I hope my smile can soothe her even just a bit. “Of course. However, they will not rouse; a blessing of slumber bestowed by Goddess Yang.” I see her face twist a bit at that, likely a mix of relief and sorrow, so I embrace her once more for a brief instant before I rise. “I will be outside. Take as much time as needed.”

I exit her house without looking back. She is handling the whole thing remarkably well, though I suppose being in a constant state of near-death has forced her to mature faster than any normal child her age. It weighs heavy on my heart to take her from her family in this manner, but we have little other options if we want to spare the children and dispense justice.

I find my thoughts drifting as I stare up at the moon, and I recall what Goddess Yang had said. I attempt to call out to Her in my head.

_“Goddess Yang?”_

In an instant, I feel a warmth flood my mind. _“Yes, Weiss? Are you well?”_

I can feel myself smile at the concern I hear in Her voice. _“Well enough. I arrived safely and have made contact with the first child, Lila.”_

_“I see. Did she accept our offer?”_

_“Indeed she did. I have given her a moment to herself to bid her parents a final farewell.”_

_“You told her that they will not wake, yes?”_

_“I did.”_

_“As I expected of you, Weiss. You were always a bright one.”_

I flush at Her praise, at the earnestness I hear. _“Not at all.”_

_“You had best prepare yourself for compliments, Weiss, because I will not cease them so long as I breathe.”_

Goodness, but She is quite the charming One. For the sake of my sanity, I had best heed Her warning. Or perhaps it is both advice and a promise?

I shake my head. _“You have eased the burdens of my heart, Goddess Yang.”_

 _“I am glad to hear as such. Your task is not an easy one, and for you to be handling it as you are is no small feat. Take pride in your fortitude, in your determination to right the wrongs done to those unable to help themselves and remember that I am with you always.”_ I hear Her hum. _“Separating a child from their parent is harsh on the heart. Remind yourself that she will receive far better care with us than she ever would with people who would lay their hands upon her. And most of all, remind yourself that she_ chose _to come with you, Weiss. If guilt still follows you, then repent by dedicating yourself to the care of the children for as long as you are able.”_

She is right on all accounts, and a sick feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach starts to abate ever so slightly. I swore that I would repent for my weakness, and this is the best way to do so.

_“Thank you, Goddess Yang. You are truly a blessing.”_

I hear some sort of odd noise, then Her voice, strained somehow, _“Not at all. You are the true blessing in all of this, Weiss. I would never have been able to do this without your help. Please, be safe and may the strength of your convictions reach the remaining children.”_

_“Thank you. I will speak with you again once I have finished here.”_

It is only a few moments more of waiting before Lila emerges from her house. Her eyes are red and puffy, and I can see tear trails glisten along her cheeks in the light of the Moon.

I pull her into my arms. “Goddess Yang and I cannot be your parents, but I hope you will come to see that we love you all the same. We will be a new family.”

Her grip on my robes tightens. “I know you love me, Lady Weiss –you reminded me of that every time you gave me a bit of your water though your thirst was as great as mine-- but I still fear Goddess Yang.”

“I feared Her as well when I arrived at Her Shrine, but She has proved Herself to be compassionate towards those who deserve it, and you certainly do, Lila. I will be with you, so you have nothing to fear.”

She stares up at me, her face barely at my navel. “Truly?”

“Truly.” I lean down and peck a kiss to her forehead, wiping away the remnants of her tears with my thumbs.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

We separate, though her hand remains in mine. “Though the night is long, it is not infinite. We must make haste to the next house. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Our progress becomes a blur, as Lila expedites the process of convincing the others considerably. Naturally, the greatest difficulty comes from the youngest children, who do not truly comprehend the terrible things their parents and Elders have done, though Lila’s bond with them ultimately wins them over.

When the little ones cry and scream their frustrations, my heart wavers, aches terribly within my chest, but I remind myself of Goddess Yang’s words. Though this will hurt them now, they will be able to grow safe and healthy with proper nutrition and water, without the neglect their parents have convinced them is normal.

By the time the Moon has begun its descent, the final child, an infant born this past Spring, is nestled in my arms. I turn to the group of children –only 10 had yet to be sacrificed— “Have any of you forgotten anything? Have you said your farewells?”

They glance back and forth at each other before they collectively shake their heads.

“Very well. Let us link our hands and leave for Goddess Yang’s Shrine. Take care not to be separated.”

Once I check to make sure everyone has their hands linked, and that Lila’s is in my own, we begin our trek back.

_“Goddess Yang? With Lila’s help, I have managed to gather all of the children who remained in the village. We are returning home.”_

_“I am glad to hear that. Are they well?”_

_“As well as they can be given the circumstances.”_

_“And you? Does your heart weigh heavy?”_

I pause for a moment, taking in the sight of the children who silently trail behind me, many rubbing the sleep from their eyes. _“It would be inaccurate to say that I am completely free of doubt, but I took courage from Your words. I will be fine, and so will they.”_

I can hear the smile in Her voice. _“I am pleased to hear as such. I will have bedding prepared for them by the time you return. A bed for the infant as well. Does she have a name?”_

_“Not yet. There was doubt as to whether she would live past her first Spring, so she was not to receive one until the next one.”_

_“Well, we will ensure that she lives a long and healthy life, so she will have a name soon. Shall we think of one together?”_

There’s a bashfulness to Her question that has my cheeks coloring as well. _“I would like nothing more.”_

_“Wonderful! Be safe, and I will welcome your return with open arms.”_

Ahead, I can see the Shrine looming, and though it would likely have taken only 5 minutes or so were I alone, the weak and sick children’s pace is far slower, and their tiredness certainly does not help things any.

“Just a bit farther,” I call back. A few hums are all I receive for a response, but I expected as much.

“Lady Weiss?”

It is Lila, fear creeping its way into her gaunt features.

“Yes, Lila?”

“Will Goddess Yang truly welcome us? You are sure She will not slay us?”

A natural fear. “I am here, am I not?”

“You are…” Her features suggest she is unconvinced.

“I swore to you that I would be with you through everything, Lila, and I intend to do just that. No harm shall come to you so long as I breathe.” I squeeze her hand. “You will be happy, of that I am sure.”

There is a long pause, but once we reach the base of the stairs, I hear a quiet, “Thank you.”

I turn to the children then. “We have arrived. Once inside, Goddess Yang will show you to your beds. There will be plenty of time for everything else in the morning.”

Feeble nods are my answer.

I take the smallest child in my other arm, the infant still safely tucked into my side, and carry them up the stairs. My pace is slow for the children to become accustomed to the odd steps, but after initial trepidation, they keep pace.

At the top, I hear several gasps as the children take in the sights before them; greenery the likes of which most have never seen before, and the unfamiliar sound of water graces their ears.

Another gasp soon follows when Goddess Yang exits the house.

“Welcome, children,” She says, Her smile wide and friendly. “I am the Goddess of this Shrine, Yang. Be at ease; no harm shall come to any of you here.”

Understandably, there is little change in the demeanor of the children who have hidden themselves behind my legs, but Lila and a few other braver children peek out from their hiding places.

“Naturally, there will be time enough for more introductions, but I am sure you are all quite tired, so I have prepared your beds. I hope you do not mind sleeping in the same room as the other children.” She gestures toward the house. “Follow me!”

There is no movement whatsoever, so I take it upon myself to give them the courage they need. I head toward the house, forcing the children to follow if they want to stay hidden behind me.

“Goddess Yang? Would you take the infant to her bed? She is surprisingly heavy.” Though she is but an infant, my arm is quite tired from carrying her just this far. I suppose this is something that I will become accustomed to in time.

Goddess Yang takes her with a laugh. “Yes, infants are more taxing to carry than one might imagine. You have done well to carry her as long as you did unaccustomed.” She coos at the infant as She enters the house, seemingly quite taken with her already –though I am no different.

I usher the children inside, leading them along the hallways. Though it is dark, I see them trying to take in as much as they can, the unfamiliar scenery taking priority over their fear. Once we reach the room where the other children sleep, Goddess Yang puts a finger to Her lips in a hushing motion, before She slides the screen door open. The children gasp at the sight of their sleeping friends but clamp their tiny hands over their mouths when they remember Goddess Yang’s cautioning.

“There will be time enough to reunite properly on the morrow,” She whispers. When they nod, She and I lead them into their bedding –a futon—and I give them quick kisses goodnight to their foreheads. Goddess Yang refrains, seeing as the children fear Her yet.

She and I exit the room, sliding the door shut behind us.

“Shall we have a drink?” She asks quietly, a small smile adorning Her features.

“I will gladly indulge.”

She bids me to take a seat on the edge of the walkway just outside, the Moon making its descent toward the horizon. It weighs upon my eyelids when I realize just how late it must be. My own futon calls my name, but Goddess Yang returns just as a yawn escapes me.

“My apologies,” I say, hastily covering my mouth.

“You need not apologize,” She says with a laugh, setting the tray between us. “It is quite late after all. Hence, my drink choice.”

She pours me a bit into a small saucer, as one often does with Her drinks, She once told me. “A warm sake will bring slumber as quick as a blink.”

Once She pours Her own cup, we clink them together and down them quickly. The liquid is warm, just as She says, but the burn is familiar. It makes its way down into my stomach and settles comfortably, though I grimace a bit at the taste regardless. She always laughs when I do, but tonight She merely smiles.

“You have done well,” She says, looking pensively up at the Moon. “Far more than any mortal would ever be expected. But fear not; your part is done. I will handle the rest once dawn arrives.”

I swirl my drink around the saucer a moment, searching for the words I want to say. So many of my thoughts and feelings have tangled together. I feel lost, or rather I am at a loss for what I feel, for what I _should_ feel. Relief? Joy? Sorrow? I cannot tell, so I remain silent.

She does not pressure me to speak, content to sip at Her drink, refilling it without a word.

It brings me just a bit of comfort.

The Moon descends even lower, though dawn is still far off yet.

I realize that I will likely not find my answer alone, so I decide to be honest. “I am at a loss, Goddess Yang.”

Her cup pauses just before Her lips. “Speak freely, Weiss. What ails your mind?”

“I have taken part in such a grand plan, I am mere hours away from witnessing the retribution I desired, I swept children away from their parents in the dead of night, I find my heart pounding at the sight of You and squeezing with Your kindness, and yet I feel nothing at all in this moment. My mind is a mess, and yet my emotions are as still as a pond. I am at a loss.”

Her cheeks flush at the candor with which I mentioned my feelings toward Her, but She clears Her throat and focuses on my troubles as a whole. “Perhaps a query will help you to sort things out. Do you feel calm?”

Do I? I believe I do, and yet the storm raging within my mind feels anything but.

“I suppose not. My mind is far too busy for me to feel calm.” I sigh heavily.

“To speak frankly, I would be far more surprised if you were.” She takes a sip from Her cup. “Then, does anything in your mind or heart call to you more insistently than others?”

Everything feels like a knot, but I do my best to pay more attention, to examine more closely. I close my eyes and l let myself search through my mind and feelings, and slowly, ever so slowly, I feel one emotion begin to emerge. It shames me a touch once I recognize it, but She and I have spoken freely, and I know I must honor that, though She would not push me.

I bite my lip, forcing the last bit of hesitation away from its place blocking my words. “I feel… anticipation.”

She sets Her cup on the tray and shifts to better look at me. “Do you know what for?” Her expression tells me She knows _exactly_ what the answer is, but She knows that I must be the one to acknowledge it.

“For the retribution tomorrow.” The sense of shame grows; it claws at my heart and stomach, leaving a sour feeling. I wish to hide my face terribly. She does not let me.

“Is it excitement, dread, or some mixture of the two that colors that anticipation?”

There is no judgement in Her tone –there is nothing in Her tone except neutrality—and yet my mind twists it against me; I hear disgust, my mind tells me there is disgust, but my heart says there is none. Yet, the angry voices in my mind are louder than the soft and warm ones in my heart. I grip at my chest, my hands curling around the fabric of the robes She lent me. My eyes squeeze shut and I feel tears spill, the sour feeling that continues to grow gnawing at me.

I feel myself spiraling all at once.

Spiraling down.

Down.

Down.

Do—

“Weiss! Breathe! I am here with you!” Goddess Yang’s arms wrap around me, one cradling my head to Her chest where Her heart beats a powerful, steady rhythm. “Breathe. I am here. Breathe.”

I breathe, shaking and awkward inhales and exhales that sound far more like wheezes and gasps, and She breathes with me, guiding me with Her own calmer, steadier breaths.

She strokes my hair softly, bringing me out of my mind slowly and back into the present. There is a quiet when I finally feel my breath return to normal, but in that quiet, I hear something soft starting in Goddess Yang’s chest. A sort of rumble that moves into Her throat, and it fills the air with its stumbling tones; She had begun to hum. The notes are off, pitching up and down without pattern, but they are colored in a desire to comfort, and that makes them far more beautiful to me than any aria could ever hope to be.

Her voice is soft, full of an uncharacteristic shyness when Her song ends. “In the past, I had often hummed to help my sister when sleep eluded her, though I was never very skilled, I am bashful to admit. I am sure it was a bit painful to hear, especially when your own voice is so lovely, however—”

“I loved it,” I say, gripping Her robes tightly. “Perhaps music is not Your forte, but the intent in Your song was more than clear. Your feelings that bled into each note were worth far more than any song lacking the emotion of the singer; worth far more than any beautiful words that meant nothing to the one saying them.”

She says nothing, and I cannot see Her face from where my head lays upon Her chest, but the way She holds me even more tightly tells me that She heard me. My own words reached Her just as much as Her song reached me.

When She finally does speak, Her voice is thick with emotion. “How ironic that your words put me at ease when I am the one who should be calming you. However… perhaps now would be the best time to bare my feelings.”

She eases me back, Her hands on my shoulders, and Her eyes that gaze upon me fondly swim with unshed tears. I feel my breath catch in my throat as I wait for Her words.

“Weiss, I have seen your efforts for many a year, watched you grow into a woman who does everything in her power to defend those unable to defend themselves, seen your beauty unchanged no matter the hardships you face, watched you treat the children far better than their own parents ever have. I found my heart swayed at the thought of you then. When you arrived at my shrine and woke me just days ago, you had the visage of a Goddess, I felt myself at a loss for words merely seeing you before me, but when I saw just how kind you were to the children, how you comforted me in my darkest moment, my heart became yours for eternity. These days with you have allowed me to learn so much about you, and with each new discovery, I find myself adoring you more with each passing day. I love you, Weiss, and my love is eternal; no matter the eons that I will see, you will remain as the only one in my heart. Should you allow me to court you, know that you will never suffer loneliness, pain, or sorrow. I will love you with every breath, with every word, with every touch, with every thought. I hold the world in my hands, and I shall give it all to you, cherish you. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

Tears spill from my eyes and I bring a hand up to block the sobs that I cannot stop. Never in my life have I felt so adored, so loved; She has pierced my heart so thoroughly that any doubt has fled my mind; no matter what tradition or customs demand, I love Goddess Yang, and I will follow my heart.

I throw myself forward, wrapping my arms around Her so tightly I would fear for Her safety were She a mortal. “I accept, Goddess Yang. I love you as well.”

I can feel both Her smile and Her tears as She curls around me, embracing me as if I am the most precious treasure. “My Love,” She says, “You have brought me the greatest joy I will ever know, and I can only hope that I have done the same.”

“You have. You most certainly have. The only joy I have felt that rivals this is the joy I felt upon seeing the children alive and happy, but many seasons have passed since I felt such joy for myself. Goddess Yang, my heart is Yours.”

She reaches up to brush my bangs aside, planting a reverent kiss upon my forehead. “We are equals now, my dearest; you need not call me by title. I am your lover and you are mine. Please, once more, without my title, call my name.”

I bite my lip, my training screaming at me that we will never be equals, but I ignore it, yet a bashfulness is truly what stops me from voicing Her desire.

She watches me, takes a finger under my chin and forces my wandering eyes to meet Her gaze. There is no reproach in it, only love and a fondness that nearly makes me weep. “Please, My Love. Grace me with the sound of my name from your lips.”

Her soft smile finally coaxes my absent voice to return to me.

“…Yang… I love you.”

She positively beams, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She looks so joyful, as if she had finally found that which she had searched for all her life.

“Yes, Weiss. I love you as well.”

I feel the finger just underneath my chin gently draw me toward her, though there is no real strength behind it; should I not want this, I may pull away. Yet, there is no such thought in my head. I close my eyes and lean forward until our lips connect in a moment that feels so perfect I can scarcely believe that it has been born out of such strife, that this kiss was born out of the tragedy of my village.

Her lips are chapped and rough, tinged with a heat that feels as if a fire burns just under her skin, yet the pressure against my own lips is gentle, never taking more than I am willing to give. She is patient, guiding, taking my inexperience and shyness in stride and moving her lips to complement mine.

I pull away, the embarrassment of my lack of skill shaming me, yet she follows, her lips finding mine again. This kiss has a hunger to it, a desire that burns as hot as the sun she controls; she desires me, my lips. The realization of this brings a swell of confidence that allows me to push back, even just a little. Her head tilts a bit to compensate, and I can hear a pleased hum rumble up from low in her throat.

Her hands slide up, cupping my cheeks, a thumb rubbing gentle circles into my skin. The sensations are overwhelming, and I can only cling to her tightly to keep myself grounded.

In a moment that comes far too soon, she pulls away, her hands never straying from my cheeks and her forehead resting against mine. “My Love, I swear to you that you will never want for anything, least of all my love. You are everything I have longed for and more. Never doubt that you and the children are my world,” she whispers.

I am overcome with emotion, with all the love she is willing to give me and the children, tears slip from my eyes, but she catches them with gentle swipes of her fingers. My words fail me, so I simply hum in response. It is a quiet, whimpering sort of sound, but the tender kiss she presses to my lips once more tells me that she understood everything.

“Shall we retire for the night?” she whispers.

She carries me like a bride to our room, and we hold each other close, her larger form wrapping protectively around mine.

Though I worry about what tomorrow will bring, in the arms of My Dearest, those thoughts fade into the background. I can sleep peacefully tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

I wake to feeling of fingers combing through my hair, their warm, gentle touch slowly bringing me into wakefulness. I feel a sleepy smile pull at my lips.

“Good morning, Yang,” I rasp, my voice still thick with sleep.

She plants a kiss to my forehead. “Good morning, My Love. Hearing my name from your lips brings me such joy, I fear I am still dreaming.”

“If that is so, then I, too, am still dreaming.”

“Your words are tempting me to remain in bed, embracing each other, but alas, I have a duty to perform.” I can see her expression cloud, the bliss that colored it gone in a flash.

“Today, the madness finally ends,” she says, pulling me close to her. “Their avarice, their utter lack of empathy infected me, poisoned me until my rage nearly consumed me, and you and the children were the ones to suffer. I swear on my Divinity that I will repent for my failings every day until my final breath.”

“Then we shall repent together,” I say. “I failed the children when they needed me the most, and it is only through your kindness that they have not paid the ultimate price for it. Our repentance will be to ensure that the children live the best lives they can, and that they never know further suffering.”

Our hands intertwine. We had been alone, unable to receive help, and now we are together, stronger. We are united in heart, mind, and purpose.

The retribution of my village is today, and it is far too late for repentance.

Justice _will_ be wrought.

 

* * *

 

 

The children have yet to awaken, and perhaps it is far better that way; I would rather them not see whatever is to come.

Yang has dressed in robes that remind me of the setting sun, a red wrapping her up as if she was engulfed in flames. When she tightens her _obi,_ she turns to me.

“Weiss, My Love, know that whatever you will see, I would never harm you. I may frighten you, but I would never direct my fury upon you. You will always be safe with me. I love you with all of my being.”

Her grim expression tugs at my heart. I can hear the firmness of her assurance, but underneath, there is a vulnerability, a fear that tells her that I might still become afraid, that I might flee and abandon her.

I have no guess as to what I will see, what she will do, but I know that her words are sincere. I choose to place my trust in her words; in her.

I know that anything I say will be met with skepticism –that I am simply making naïve promises—so I instead nod and put every feeling I have into the few words I know she will hear, “I love you as well.”

She seems to take heart from that, a bit of her usual luster returning to her.

“It is time.”

            She rises into the sky, like a phoenix of lore, and to my disbelief, she grows.

            She grows and grows and grows and grows until she is the size of a mountain. I feel my jaw fall slack at the sight of her, and I have no ability to think to close it. Every thought in my head has been wiped clean.

            “Mortals of Haresugita, hear my words,” she booms, her voice louder than thunder. Yet, it never forces me to cover my ears, never causes me any pain. It washes over me, and I feel myself fighting the urge to collapse to the ground in reverence.

            The village seems to wake up all at once, the people scrambling from their huts to take in the Holy Visage of their Goddess. Not a single mouth is closed, and all are too dumbfounded to realize that they have yet to bow. They stand in utter shock, paralyzed by fear.

            I doubt they have realized their children are missing.

            When they have all gathered outside, including my Father, Yang speaks once more.

            “I have watched over you for many seasons, seen many of your people live from birth to death, and have been content to see the people you become. However, these past few seasons, I have seen the good people of this village become poisoned with avarice. I have seen the Elders, the mature ones, taking more than what is theirs and leaving the young ones to suffer. Instead of allowing the young ones to live, you have chosen greed. That choice has led to this moment. Today, your day of reckoning has come.”

            Her voice contains such a fury that it cows all but my Father. My foolish, foolish Father.

            “W-Was it not you who forced this upon us? Was it not _your_ Sun that caused us to suffer so? We offered sacrifices to appease you, and yet we still suffered! Our choice was wrought by none other than you!”

            The words make my blood boil, but that boil turns to a freeze when I see my Father float into the air, mere feet from Yang’s burning eyes. He appears as if he is being squeezed, yet no fingers are around him, no ropes to bind him. It is as if the air itself is crushing him.

            “Indeed, I had failed to communicate the old ways to your Priestesses when they were lost, however, that does not excuse your despicable actions. Within a mere season of drought, you and the other Elders began collecting water for yourselves, storing it away so as to ensure your own salvation. As the governing body, your first action should have been to ensure the future of the village. Your aging bodies and minds are not the future, and they never would be. So, make no mistake, Jacques, the only ones who truly suffered were the children.”

            Even from the distance I am at, I can see my Father swallow. He has never been one to show fear –to show weakness—but here he finally cowers before a power far greater than he will ever know.

            “Every selfish action, every choice made in self-preservation stoked a rage inside me so great I nearly scorched the Earth. The drought was only to last two seasons as a means to replenish the land, yet the rage you and the Elders sowed inside of me caused me to lose control, thus extending the drought. The sacrifice of Blau, of all the children, and of Weiss, only confirmed that which I already knew; your village was beyond salvation. Thus, the day of reckoning has arrived.”

            “Weiss?” My Father turns his head towards the Shrine, and upon seeing me, his skin reddens, a fury coloring his features. “You! This is all your doing, is it not? Did you resent us for sacrificing you so you sought revenge? You pathetic little wen—”

            His final words never reach me, as if his tongue was cut out. Yang’s eyes seem to burn even brighter, and I can feel the air heat.

            “How dare you speak to her in such a vile manner? To speak to a Goddess’s lover as if she was an insect?”

            My Father’s eyes bulge at the word “lover” and it is almost comical –he reminds me of a toad.

            Yang reaches a hand out, taking him in her grasp and bringing him right before her face. “Though I harbor much ill will for the rest of the people of the village, you in particular shall suffer before your death. You failed her as an Elder and as a Father. I know all the pain you have caused her, all the times you have laid hands upon her, and you will pay for all of it.”

            She casts her gaze on the village once more. “Your children are safe with Weiss and myself, and they shall know only happiness. I will give them that which you did not.”

            She brings her empty hand forward until it hovers just above the tops of the huts, and I watch the villagers crane their necks up to see.

“The time for repentance has long since passed. Your sins will be judged in the underworld. Pray that Ereshkigal is in a forgiving mood.”

Her hand comes down on the village, and when it rises, I am surprised to find that both the people and the buildings are still intact. The villagers had crouched down, covering themselves in anticipation, but cautiously poke their heads up in confusion. Instead of immediate destruction, a hole opens up from the ground, expanding until it engulfs the entire village.

I can hear the panicked screams clear as day, and I cover my ears at the gut-wrenching sounds. The people and the huts –everything— all at once falls into the dark abyss, as if a rug had been pulled out from under them, and as soon as everything has disappeared, the hole closes once more, as if it had never been there in the first place.

It was so quick, so instantaneous, I can hardly believe all that suffering led to such a swift end. All those long years were repaid nearly faster than a blink. It almost feels… disappointing. Though I say that, I do not know what kind of fate awaits them in the Underworld, or Kur specifically. If it truly was Ereshkigal who would decide their fates, some of their souls could be trapped for eons, never finding peace, or perhaps they would be reincarnated into a terrible fate. I do not know if the punishment that I saw will be the end of everything. I will have to inquire with Yang later.

Belatedly, I can feel my knees shaking; perhaps in awe, perhaps in fear. I witnessed destruction so pure and potent, and yet I know that Yang would never harm me. She gave me her word, and I have no reason to not believe her. I love her.

A small part of me, a part that I find quite unpleasant and ugly, feels a sudden joy at the village’s destruction, feels joy at Elder Hebi receiving his just desserts. That joy clashes with the disgust I feel immediately afterward. I know I wished for retribution, but I never could have imagined just how potent the sight of it would be. It reminds me once more of the differences between Mortals and Goddesses. No matter how human their flaws, their power is what separates us.

I hear another scream that brings me out of my thoughts; my Father’s. I can see him writhing in Yang’s grip, struggling futilely. His fear is so potent I cannot help but to feel another wave of perverse satisfaction at the sight. This wave brings me no guilt.

“Now, Jacques, though each of you are guilty of the same sins, I have a particular hatred for you. Perhaps that is unfair of me, but I have never claimed to be perfect. The Sun of my life, your daughter, suffered greatly at your hands, and I will see that you suffer in turn. You failed in your duties as a Father; consider this your punishment.”

Yang turns to me. “Weiss, I would advise you to look away and cover your ears, but it is ultimately your choice. Should you choose to look, I beg of you to not come to hate me.”

I hesitate. Should I do as she advises? I had seen the village fall into Kur, and it was the blood-curdling screams that had affected me most, however the effect was a more primal one; the screams that were so guttural brought my instinct of fear to the forefront, but I brushed it aside, for I was never, nor would I ever be subject to the cause of those screams. Still, my Father awaits a different fate than a plummet into the Underworld. I cannot be sure that I will not lose my mind upon witness to his punishment. Yet, I cannot help but wish to see his retribution. He has caused me much pain, and I am only human.

My thoughts wage war upon each other, and Yang waits patiently through it all, never once hurrying me or prompting me. I appreciate it greatly, but I feel that only my Father will be able to sway my decision.

I face him firmly. “Father, answer me this: have you ever truly loved me?”

Yang’s eyes widen, and she whips her gaze to him. Her grip seems to ease to allow him to speak.

Red-faced, he spits, “Never! Not even for an instant!”

I can see the fire in Yang’s eyes become a blazing inferno, her rage raising the temperature around us even further --it reminds me of Summer.

“My Dearest,” I call, snuffing out that flame in an instant. My eyes never leave my Father.

“Do what you will.”

She releases my Father from her grip, but he does not fall. Instead, he rises slowly, further into the sky, so high I must crane my neck to see the tiny speck he has become. He writhes in place, his movements frantic as I see his head move between looking at the ground and Yang herself. He likely wonders whether he will plummet to his death or be thrown into the ground at a speed that even birds could never reach. It is only when he hears Yang’s voice once more that he freezes in place.

“Let the Sun be your executioner!”

“Wait! Please! Forgive me!” My Father screams.

It falls on deaf ears, because in the next instant, he is alight.

Flames lick at his feet and begin to consume him at an agonizingly slow pace. His clothes, his skin, all the way to his bones burn within the flames, his screams shooting straight into my heart and sinking like a stone into my gut. Yet I do not take my eyes away.

I watch in silence as my Father burns to ashes for his sins.

            I know there is likely something I should say, something I should feel, but confirmation of the feelings toward me that I knew he had held all along destroys anything I could have felt. I suppose if I was forced to name an emotion, it would be indifference. The sight of his burning body was horrifying, and more than enough to make my stomach lurch, but nothing beyond that. It was as if I had watched an insect perish in the blazing sun.

            “It is done,” Yang says, slowly shrinking back to the size I am most familiar with. Immediately after, she rushes to my side, taking my face in her hands and watching me with wide eyes.

            “Weiss, are you well, My Love? How do you feel?”

            I release a long breath which soon morphs into a rueful smile. “Relieved. I am glad that everything is finally over.”

            Her smile is brief, nothing more than a flash across her face before the concern returns in full force. “What about your Father?” Her voice is cautious. Extremely so. I wonder if she believes I might collapse at any moment, though I suppose that would be a natural reaction for most people upon witnessing the brutal death of their family.

            “He got exactly what he deserved,” is what I simply say.

            “You do not…”

            I can hear the unspoken end to her question, the vulnerability in her words. Fortunately, I can relieve her of her concerns,

            “I do not hate you, My Dearest. I never could.”

            Her expression melts into joy, pure and potent. She pulls me into her, and I feel tears drip onto my robes as she spins me around. I squeak in surprise, but I let myself go limp; she will stop spinning eventually. At least I hope she will.

            That jubilance does mercifully come to an end, and I can feel my toes touch the ground once more, but she does not release me.

            “Yang?”

            She wraps herself around me, as if she were shielding me from a blow. “Weiss, even though he was a vile and cruel man, I will not fault you if you shed tears for him. If you mourn him.”

            I freeze.

            She must have felt me go rigid, because her embrace somehow tightens. “He was still your Father. It is fine to feel sorrow or regret.”

            I grip onto her robes, and a vicious laugh rises up from me, one I do not recognize. “Hah! He was a terrible man! You heard him yourself; he never loved me! Why should I mourn him?! Why would I feel anything for him?!”

            I do not understand why, but my throat tightens with each word, and my eyes begin to burn. I thought I felt nothing, so why do I feel pain?

            “He never loved me… So why would I feel anything…?”

            “Because you are human.”

            I am unsure of why that simple sentence holds such a destructive power, but I find myself unable to fight the burning in my eyes. A tear escapes me. Then another. Then another. Then another.

            “He was a horrible man,” I sob, my voice warbled by my tears, “but he was my Father. I was never good enough, and I knew that, yet even so I wanted to be enough for him. I wanted it more than anything. More than to follow in my sister’s footsteps, I wanted to be loved by my Father.”

            I cling tighter to Yang. “Yet even in his final moments, even when a lie could have saved him, he refused. He hated me! He hated me so much he would not even pretend to love me when it would have saved him. So why?! Why do I shed these tears for him?!”

            Yang wraps me tighter in her arms, her hand guiding my head to her shoulder. “Because you are human. Because you are kind. Because despite everything, you still wanted his love and he would not give it to you. It is natural for a child to want love from their parents, Weiss. There is no shame in it, not in the least. So let yourself feel, Weiss. Let yourself grieve the loss of a parent. You will feel better once you have done so. And know that I will be here with you through it all. I love you, Weiss.”

            She leans down and whispers into my ear, “Let yourself go.”

I do.

I let my emotions free.

I weep without reservation.

When it is finally over, I feel clear.

I feel light.

I feel better.

 

* * *

 

        

    “Mama Weiss! When is dinner?”

            It has been five years since the destruction of my former village.

            “Soon, Ki. In fact, could you call Mama Yang and the children inside? I need help to set the table.”

            “Okay!”

            Aoi has grown quite a bit since we took her in as an infant. She knows nothing of what the other children faced, and it feels wonderful to say that. She is growing without knowing strife.

            Aoi rushes out the door, her little feet thumping quickly down the wooden flooring until I can no longer hear the steps.

            The other children have steadily grown, and though I fear some of them may never completely recover or grow as they would have, they do not seem bothered. They smile, laugh, play, learn, and grow. Giving them that which should have come naturally brought me more joy than I could have ever imagined.

            Loud, quick steps approach me, until the screen is pulled aside and Yang steps inside.

            “Aoi tells me that you need help setting the table?”

            I giggle a bit; she looks like a dog when she is eager to help.

            “Yes, My Darling. Would you take these dishes out to the table for me?”

            “Of course,” she says, rushing to help as quickly as she possibly can.

            Yang, after fulfilling her duty as a Goddess, has felt far more like a mortal since then. Though she can still do things like produce food seemingly out of nowhere, she has not used her powers for anything other than keeping the Sun stable. I had wondered if she felt guilt for everything that transpired under her watch, but when I asked her, she simply said that there were no other duties to attend to as of yet.

            She takes a plate in each hand and plants a smiling kiss on my cheek. Once she finishes setting them in their place, she returns for more plates and a kiss to my cheek. After the third time, I have to ask.

            “What are you doing?” I know I am smiling, but I try to furrow my brow just a little so she knows how exasperated I am. Which is to say hardly at all, but it would be unlike me to not at least pretend to be exasperated by her antics.

            “Hm? Just giving kisses to my wife!” Her grin nearly takes over her face, and there is not even the slightest hint of teasing in her words.

            “Oh? Then why not kiss me when you are finished?”

            “I plan to, but first I have a job to do, and I do not want to wait to kiss you, so I felt this was the best compromise!”

            I mentioned that she reminded me of a dog, correct? This is but one of many examples.

            “Honestly, sometimes you are too much.” I shake my head, but I know I am smiling. How could I even _pretend_ to be unhappy?

            Yang comes up behind me, wrapping herself around my form and planting another kiss on my cheek. “Not at all. You deserve at _least_ this much love. I promised you that I would love you with every fiber of my being, did I not? I have so much more love to give you, and I plan to share it with you every day.”

            I smile. I smile because I have no words to reply with; no words that could convey the potent mixture of joy and love that I feel. Yang has kept true to her word since she made me her vow, loving the children and myself, giving us the life that we deserved from the beginning that were denied to us.

            She has been the strength I needed when I think about my Father.

            As if she read my mind, she presses a kiss to the shell of my ear. “Are you remembering him?”

            “Less frequently than before. The nightmares have improved as well.”

            “I spoke with Goddess Pasithea about them –she told me that she would be happy to help. That may be why your rests have been better.” She presses another kiss to my temple.

            “I must give her my thanks.” I am silent for a moment, and Yang does not push to fill that silence. She lets me have my time to think, just as she always does. When I am ready, I squeeze the hands that rest on my stomach. “I wish that I could be rid of the memories, both of that day, and of my Village.”

            “If you truly wish it so, I can speak to one of the Gods or Goddesses. I know one of them can do something.”

            It is this eagerness to help, the earnestness that comes when she wishes to fulfill my desires, that melts my heart without fail. Certainly, she is charming and attractive and she has shown me how effectively she can use that, but it is her genuine love for me, her care for me, that makes me fall in love with her further each passing day.

            “I appreciate your offer, but I will decline. Though I wish it so, were it not for the tragedies, myself and the children would likely have withered away, or died at the hands of another villager. There was no future there, and it was only through those struggles that we can all be happy together here. I do not want to forget that tragedy, for in a strange, twisted way, I am thankful for it. I do not want to forget that which has brought me this wonderful love, this wonderful life.”

            I can feel her smile against my skin. “If one were to view it that way, then I suppose I am thankful as well. For both you and the children.”

            I hear laughter outside growing closer, and I smile. “Speaking of them, dinner has finished and it is time we called them in for it.”

            She turns me in her arms and presses a kiss to my lips, one I happily reciprocate.

            “I shall call them in,” Yang says, parting from me with a squeeze.

            The tragedy brought about by the Too-Sunny Sky is one that will never be repeated; Yang has grown, as have I, and we are stronger together. I do not know exactly what it is that the future holds for our family, but I know that we will be together, happy, for all of it.

Thus, the saga of the Too-Sunny Sky finally comes to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> The final product clocked in at 51 pages and 22,672 words. Half the reason it took me so long to publish anything was because of how long this monster of a fic was. I have to say, I’m really satisfied with how everything turned out, especially considering this is the longest thing I have published to date. If there is anything confusing, or there is a glaring error I missed in this giant story (there’s no way I caught everything) let me know. With this, I’ve finished my Too-Sunny Sky saga. Thank you for sticking with me until the end! Until next time~!
> 
> Also, I've got a Patreon page under the same name, MakaS0ul. Please feel free to take a look if you like what I do and want to support me. [Patreon](http://www.patreon.com/makas0ul)


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